The carny

31.07.2005Osebno

It`s not unusual to be sad on a carneval. Especially if you are walking through it alone. You start noticing things. The sad lone drinkers who are sitting and chewing their beer slowly, as if sipping it and spitting it back into the plastic cup. The kids with big eyes which are filled with ballons, sugar foam and lollipops, while their mothers murmur impatiently “Maybe next year honey, maybe next year” and drag them around like rag dolls. You notice the drunks, lying in the corners, streched out on the pavement like they are dead or close to dying, you notice the dogs licking and eating their vomit. You see kids high on alcohol staggering around, their eyes all misted in red haze of wine, you hear their voices, dazed and confused. You hear the screams of people caught on monster wheels and merry-go-rounds, you see the faces of people standing in line to get a rush of adrenaline. Hit me, hit me, hit me. You hear the music, blaring out of old speakers, hissing and popping sounds included, you see the cashiers, fat and sweaty in their little cages, counting money and handing out tickets, little sweaty dirty pieces of heaven. You hear the high pitch of sirens in the distance, mixing with the singing and loud voices that burn into the night sky. You feel the crowd around you, the bodies rubbing off of each other, touching, brushing, scenting. You see their faces as in a flash, forgotten the second they pass you and get lost into the crowd that is eating everybody alive. You look up and see the sky, suddenly cut in half by a helium ballon, sailing off into eternity while on the ground, a kid is crying its eyes out as it let go of something that seems more precious than gold and more powerful than love. Your legs ache and your feet are sore but you don`t stop. You keep moving, as if stopping would mean to die in this river of human flesh. You circle the plane two, three times and yet every time you pass a certain spot, there is something new going on, there is a new world ahead of you as if reality would draw itself all over again every time you make it pass point zero. You get tired, your head feels heavy and you wish for a quiet place, to lie down and close your eyes, if only just for a moment, please, just let me close those heavy eyelids for a second and let the noise run through me like a knife through butter. Just for a moment…